


Fandom University

by millygal



Category: Fandom RPF, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Multi, Silly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: The University for all good fangirls and boys is now open for their first and possibly last semester!





	1. Fandom University's Final Exam!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to miss jj1564 for the beta and the comments, lol! I love it when you beta my stuff because I get your joy straight off the bat! All remaining mistakes are mine. I have been meaning to finish this for EVER! I hope the ladies who were mentioned (and one gent) don't mind so much ;) It's all meant in utter love!
> 
> This is nothing remotely serious, just some funtimes with some fun friends!

There's a hushed, reverent silence settling across the hall as several sets of nervous eyes all scan the room for a friendly face.

The ominous _tickticktick_ of the wall sized clock hanging at the front of the room is the only sound, other than fingers and pencil tips tapping rapidly against wooden table tops, as the ladies all wait for the adjudicator to give the nod.

It's not their first exam of the year, but it's certainly their most important. The one that will cement their places in **Fandom History** as the _'Go-To'_ girls for insightful answers to all those many varied and strange Supernatural related questions.

They will be able to hold their heads high at every Fandom mixer, answer the pub quiz questions with pride, knowing that they passed their **'Two Hundred Things To Love About Supernatural'** exam paper with flying geektastic colours.

This exam means they've got every right to butt in on the next Tumblr post they see, and add to the growing frustration of every other Fandom out there!

So far this year they've already whizzed through;

'Dean and his many perfect facial expressions.'  
'Sammy's bitch face, 101 uses for an eyebrow flick!'  
'Castiel; Angel or Ex Police Officer-the Trenchcoat's history in film and literature.'  
'Bobby, What does the word idjit mean to you!'  
'Topless Sam or Topless Dean, How to spot a body double!' 

Wings128 looks around the room, scans the sea of chewed lips and grinding teeth before her eyes rest upon Milly_Gal who has her head slammed against the desk, paper scrunched beneath her squashed nose as she repeats over and over again, "Must remember the camera glide in Phantom Traveller! Must remember the camera glide in Phantom Traveller!"

Shaking her head and sending out calming thoughts, she lets her eyes flick to Fannishliss who's frantically rolling and unrolling the edge of her as yet unopened exam. Liss gives Wings a nod before taking a deep, hopefully relaxing breath.

Somewhere at the back of the room, Wings can hear a high pitched keening sound. Shocked, and slightly worried, every set of eyes turns toward the back wall, only to be met with Big_Heart_june rocking in her chair and whispering, "HisperfectfuckingfacehisperfectfuckingfacehisPERFECTFUCKINGFACE!"

Deciding that June should be left to her mental meltdown in peace, everyone faces forward again where the adjudicator; a very well built gentleman with a more than passing resemblance to Soulless Sammy, flicks his hair, grins lasciviously and raises his hands, "Ladies, let the fun begin. You have two hours. Don't forget, you will be marked down for any drool smears! GO!"

Ash48 immediately rips open her paper, only to be met with a blank page and an overwhelming urge to post a, _'Please help me'_ entry on her livejournal.

Seemingly oblivious to the mad rush to tear apart booklets around her, Jj1564 is smiling softly, staring off into the distance and stroking what appears to be a miniature plastic version of Castiel, complete with trenchcoat and ruffled tie.

The watchful eyes of the adjudicator spots the little fellow and he strides towards her seat, "Sorry miss Jj, no learning aides allowed in the room."

Trying to gently remove MiniCas from her hands, he finally gives in and snatches the toy away, feeling a small sadistic kick when Jj begins to stroke thin air as if it's still within her grasp.

Wings finally faces her own blank page, writes her name, and lowers her head to concentrate.

Half way through her third entry; **_'Dean's inseam...I mean DEAN'S INSEAM!'_** she hears a manic laugh burst from the centre of the room. Lifting her eyes to search for the source of the sound, she finds Ephermeralk and Alexisjane and arm in arm, weaving between the tables, "Dean", "No, Sam!", "NO DEAN!"

"Ladies, ladies, calm down. It's only a silly list."

20 sets of eyes all flashing the threat of violence and bloody retribution pierce the very convincing look alike's skin, making his flesh crawl as he backs towards the judge's table.

"IT'S NOT JUST A LIST! Come on girls, GET HIM!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days after the final exam at Fandom University, the professors all sit around, coffee cups in hand, heads shaking with sympathy for the injuries of one of their own.

Arm in a sling, two black eyes and one broken toe, Soulless Sammy nurses a flask of whiskey and winces every time he tries to talk, "I mean seriously! I thought Dean was bad enough when he shoved that soul up my ass, but this lot are fucking insane!"

Dean relaxes back, bow legs crossed at the ankles, and chuckles loudly, "I warned you, they're a different breed. I was lucky to get out of the Phys Ed class alive last week. Think yourself lucky, Castiel's still trying to sew his coat back together!"


	2. Fandom University's closing ceremonies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've finally graduated, now they can really do some damage.

The auditorium is packed to the rafters with women, and one very brave man, all giggling and flapping their gums and proudly sporting the battered brown leather jacket of their hero. Every so often someone starts fidgeting with their collar and a sea of _flicks_ results in an outpouring of laughter so loud it bows the windows outwards.

The stage is set with a single podium, surrounded by a suspiciously huge amount of safety measures.

Bullet proof glass covers it on all sides with a tiny lockable door in the back for access, and there's a serious amount of warding covering every inch of exposed wood. For the women who aced their **_Swearing in Enochian_** final it's slightly insulting to think that the professors felt the need to add, "Please fucking Chuck, keep them away!" in what appears to be blood.

Sitting in one long line behind the podium are the professors who took part in this year's _Fandom Education Initiative_. They look positively petrified, and it's more than slightly gratifying knowing that en masse the Fangirls in the audience scare the holy hell out of a bunch of Hunters and Preternatural beings.

Nothing beats a good old fashioned bit of crazy! Demons they get, Fangirls are fucking insane!

From the Physical Education teacher in his bright red shorts nervously twiddling his whistle between his fingers, to the lion maned man of steel still sporting dark shadows beneath his eyes and a sling pulled tight against his shoulder, and not forgetting the poor soul still holding shreds of what used to be a trench coat, fighting back tears of sorrow and loss. They **all** look like they'd rather be neck deep in a nest of vampires than facing a hall full of nearly two hundred women who could break them with a flick of the finger against a keyboard.

Carriage return should not be that scary.

A grizzled man wearing a ratty tee and slightly skewed baseball cap steps up to the podium and clears his throat. "Right, yeah, okay then, let's get this show on the road. Remember the rules girls, no grabbing, grasping or groping. Any such behaviour will forfeit your graduation."

A united-in-disgust hiss sounds from the audience and Bobby winces. "Sorry ladies, but the classes this year took it out of our teachers. Not a one of 'em made it out unscathed. You only have yourselves to blame."

The sea of slightly guilty looking faces stares back at the man desperately wishing he was anywhere but here, and he's struck by the thought that no monster or demon could ever stand up against this lot. Why have they not been utilising their fangirl connections?

Clearing his throat he steps to the side, pinned in by the glass surrounding the podium, and motions for Castiel to come forward. "Please Professor, would you do the honours?"

Castiel, not known for his ability to swear on command, lets loose a string of Enochian expletives before rising from his seat, still clutching his poor abused trench coat. " **Ahem** Right then. So, without further ado, I wish to welcome the newest graduates up to receive their papers."

It's only then that everyone notices there's a very small window in the front of the glass, a door which Castiel swings outwards, just large enough for him to pass the scrolls through.

"wings128" Wings takes a step forward, readjusts her jacket and walks on to the stage. Snatching her scroll from Castiel she gives Dean's red shorts the once over before winking and turning to the audience who all whoop and holler.

Dean, for his part, sinks as low down in his seat as humanly possible, hoping that if he doesn't move she won't spot him.

"laughablelament." Laughable does exactly what is expected of her and giggles her way onto the stage before stroking Castiel's hand as she receives her scroll.

Castiel is so taken aback he bangs his wrist on the top of the small opening and smacks his forehead into the glass. "Damn it, girl, what did Bobby say?"

"That wasn't a grope it was a stroke, be more specific."

Ushering her off the stage, Castiel rolls his eyes and announces the next name. "theymp."

His Ympness steps onto the stage and pouts before pointing at Dean, still nervously grasping at his whistle. "I want **him** to hand me my diploma."

The _him_ in question almost falls out of his chair before vehemently shaking his head.

"Sorry Ymp, I think you traumatised him when you asked in class if he could prove whether he was a boxers or briefs man because his visible panty line wasn't so visible."

Shoulders bowed in mock guilt, smirk firmly fixed, The Ymp wanders off the stage to a round of applause so loud it almost blows Bobby's hat off.

"herminekurotowa." Hermine skips onto the stage with such enthusiasm every single professor leans back in their chair, almost toppling backwards in one long line of goofy looking adorable bastards. Flashing a sunshine smile in their direction she grips her diploma tight to her chest before clicking something grasped in her palm.

Castiel doesn't want to look but he knows there's something going on behind him on the drop down projector screen as gasps of horror from his fellow professors and howls of laughter from the gathered fangirls rise up as one to fill the auditorium with an ear splitting sound akin to an atomic bomb being let off in the courtyard.

Turning slowly, not really wanting to scar himself for life, Castiel sees a series of gifs scrolling across the screen.

There's him in a tutu holding what appears to be a giant dildo. Dean's red gym shorts are now officially small enough to see ass cleavage and soulless boy's bottoms have gone the way of his top as he does extremely impressive yet sweaty and _vocal_ pull ups.

The round of applause from the audience is one long ear drum shattering ruckus which he has to try and get under control before the bullet proof glass blows out around him. "Ladies, ladies, _please_!!!"

The sound eventually dies down to a low level hum of amusement so Castiel announces the next name with trepidation. "jj1564."

As Jj wheels herself up the ramp onto the stage she's struck by just how terrified the faculty look and is suddenly overtaken with a pride known only to those who invent shit that's voice activated, or those amongst her assembled group who write stories that reduce people to dribbling messes.

As Jj holds her hand out for her diploma Castiel notices a teeny tiny miniature version of himself on a chain around her neck. He's in the middle of feeling the first tendrils of warm and fuzzy wrapping themselves around his heart when the little dude's attire registers. This teeny tiny Castiel is completely devoid of clothes. And for some reason his _appendage_ is bigger than his actual body.

"Thank you, Castiel."

"You are **more** than welcome, Jj."

The smugness with which he turns to Dean and Soulless Sam almost makes up for all those Junkless jokes they keep leaving on post-it notes in the faculty offices.

The ceremony continues on in this vein until each and every fangirl and boy has their grubby little mitts on a hard earned diploma. Castiel's about to close proceedings when he notices a placard being held up at the back of the hall.

ash48, sw0rdy, sinfulslasher, be_my_precious, sasha_dragon, dizzojay, amberdreams, milly_ga, stir_of_echoes, cuddyclothes, and alexisjane are holding up between them an absolutely huge piece of intricately painted, quite frankly stunning artwork. Despite the subject matter, and the staff's inability to look away, they are struck by how very talented this lot of crazies are.

Etched upon the cardboard is a depiction of what can only be described as Sodom and Gomorrah's weekend vacation catalogue entry with the tag line, "Get your bits out for the girls" written beneath it.

At this point Castiel faints, soulless boy is half tempted to step forward and Bobby has to waft a flattened out newspaper in Dean's direction for fear he'll keel over as well.

milly_gal Steps out from beneath the artwork and shouts at the top of her lungs. "Here's to next year's advanced classes. I hope y'all didn't think you were getting rid of us that easily!"


	3. The First Semester Starts With a Bang.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar being appointed to the faculty team can only be a mistake, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to Fandom Uni's Final Exam&Fandom University's closing ceremonies. This appears to have finally become a series, lord help y'all and me. this one is unbeta'd as it was written at 2:46am.

Balthazar’s seconds away from begging the older Winchester not to do this to him. “Oh good lord, really? I mean _really?!_ ”

Dean readjusts his red shorts and shakes out both beautifully bowed legs. “Look dude, you wanted in on the faculty action. You said, and I quote, _Maybe I’ll catch a little wayward tail._ Well, guess what, you’re **in** and this is your class! Live with it.”

The usually smarmy Angel sneers at Dean and huffs before banging his head once, very hard, against the solid oak door; the only thing between him and a room full of rabid over stimulated sex crazed fangirls. When he’d said _tail_ this wasn’t what he’d meant. “Fine, but I’m going to have to sequester Castiel for some of my classes. There’s no way I can demonstrate half this crap without an extra body in the room.”

Dean’s snort of pure amusement is heard half way down the hall as the Angel in question comes striding out of his office.

Castiel looks between Balthazar and Dean and knows without a shadow of a doubt that he is officially about to be screwed six ways from Sunday. “ **What**? What exactly have you just agreed to me doing, Dean?”

Dean’s smirk is mega-watt as he spins on his heel and hot-foots it away from his best friend. “I’ll let Balty explain that one. _Good luck_.”

Castiel notices the extremely large red bump forming on Balthazar’s forehead and is struck by just how bad of an idea it was letting him onto the staff.

Next time Sans-Soul Sammy has a bright idea, Castiel’s going to veto the fuck out of it. “Seriously, _Balty_ , what did you sign me up for?”

Balthazar doesn’t say a word just steps back and wafts his hand at the etched signage on the wood panelling in front of him.

_**Proportions, Angles, And Correct Times To Use Lube. Male/Male Sex - Advanced Diploma Class.** _

The speed with which Castiel manages to blink out of existence is only bested by the volume his final statement reaches as it hangs in the air around Balthazar's ringing ears.

“ **OH HELL NO. GET SOULLESS BOY**.”

“Now _there’s_ a thought.”


	4. Male/Male Relationships - A Fanfic Writers' 101.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who in the hell managed to talk Dean into taking this class??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next instalment (fourth in fact) in the Fandom University 'Verse.Previous parts include Fandom Uni's final exam, Fandom University's closing ceremonies., The First Semester starts with a bang., I must give my heart felt smoochifies to miss jj1564 for being the bestest beta a girl could have/ask for. Never has she ever told me no, and believe me, that's a huge thing when your muse is temperamental, like mine is. Thank you bb ♥ Btw, sasha_dragon is SO sweet in real life, it's amazing she's such a beast when it comes to breaking our boys ;)

The sea of waving hands and rapidly rising voices gives Dean a stress headache as he tries not to audibly sigh at the common misconceptions being bandied around the room.

The whole point of this class was to enlighten those amongst the fangirl sorority inclined to spend their weekends bashing away at a keyboard, creating stories and working out their own emotions using characters whose permissions were not gained beforehand.

sasha_dragon sits quietly in the corner, scribbling furiously in her Supernatural notebook, and Dean’s not entirely sure if it’s a good or bad thing that the only person in the room who appears to be paying attention is the one woman in the entirety of the student body who’s capable of inflicting the most pain on her creations.

Rolling his eyes and growling, Dean allows his head to drop into his hands. “No, no, no. Look, men don’t do that.”

“But, if they’re with another man surely they show some kind of - “

Dean can control himself no longer and hops down from the table he’s been sitting on and starts stalking the edges of the room. “For the very last time, it doesn’t matter if we’re gay, straight, bi, or asexual, we don’t do hearts and flowers all the damned time. Much like yourselves, sometimes we just fancy a fuck. Makes no difference if the person we’re fuckin’ is a man or a woman. Horny is as horny does.”

Milly raises her head and her hand, half hoping she’ll get the look from Dean, and half worried if she does it’ll make her squeak and slide out of her chair.

Dean spins on the spot and points at her. “Yes, Emily.”

The use of her full name does disastrous things to Milly’s already racing pulse and she has to clear her throat before she can reply. “M-M-Milly, it’s Milly.”

“Not in this room it isn’t.”

Shaking herself, milly_gal stares down Dean who’s been slowly walking closer to her desk. “Tell me this, oh wise one, because I’ve always been curious. Do men actually use that much lube?”

Dean’s both impressed and shocked at the moxy on his most disruptive student, but he’s got to give her brownie points for asking. Most people just slather you in sticky liquid and don’t care whether it’s true to life.

Stepping up directly in front of Milly, Dean smirks down at her. “Good question, Emily, and no, we don’t. Spit also isn’t the preferred lubricant of choice, before you ask. Most the time men don’t carry around gallon tubs of slip-n-go-slide, we just get down to it and use whatever we can get our hands on, or we go without. Keep in mind that in today’s health conscious world, the condom is a well utilised piece of sexual technology that is a must. That has it’s own disgusting gooey coating.”

Dean returns to his place at the front of the room and opens his arms wide. “I’ve got a question for you, ladies.”

jj1564 leans as far over her desk as she can, whilst alexisjane sits back nonchalantly in her chair, awaiting whatever Dean has to say.

“If your girlfriends, boyfriends, partners or friends with benefits spent their entire time showering you with roses and sweet nothings, what would you do?”

The collective sound of forty women, and one very open minded man, all throwing up in their mouths is music to Dean’s ears.

Repositioning himself back on top his desk, Dean smirks and makes a firing gun gesture. “My point exactly. The stereotypes are there for a reason, ladies. Men are men, it doesn’t matter if they like screwing other dudes or not. We’re all basically as simple as we look and sound. There’s no grand scheme when it comes to romance. We hit and hope. The only time I bring Sam a gift is when I’ve done something wrong and I know I’ll be sleepin’ on the couch for the next two nights.”

siennavie jots down bullet points as Dean clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Anyway, now we’ve covered the basics, who wants to discuss positioning and how that isn’t physically possible?”

The cheer that goes up almost blows him backwards off the table he’s perched on and Dean wonders, not for the first time, how exactly Castiel talked him into this damned course.


	5. That's not even a WORD!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Winchester is unavailable at this time, his advanced Rare!Pair and 'Ship Naming class have forced him into early retirement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always go to miss jj1564 who's my loving and wonderful beta (and Fandom Uni Fic enabler!) and thanks go to Super-Wiki for the lists upon lists of Mash Up ‘Ship names! There were even some there I didn’t know.

Sam hunches behind his desk, using the hulking great piece of furniture as a sort of shield from all the purposefully stupid comments being flung around the room by his usually quite calm and intelligent class. “Please, stop.”

julchen11 throws another mash up at her tutor in the hopes she can turn his glorious hair completely white. “Chestervelle’s not okay either, then?”

Sam’s head snaps up and he shoots her a deadly yet quite clearly confused stare. “What the hell is that? I mean, seriously?”

“Dean and Jo.”

Sam closes his eyes and lets his head thump loudly back down onto his desk. “I give up!”

milly_gal snorts at Sam’s irritation before adding fuel to the already blazing fire of his annoyance and despair. “You think that’s bad, wait until you hear the Male/Male ones!”

There’s a small part of Sam which is so curious to hear them, but knows he’ll end up having to take a shot of whisky from the flask Dean gifted him after he agreed to teach this class. “Destiel’s bad enough, how much worse can they get? Speaking of, shouldn’t it be Deastiel?”

Milly chuckles and takes a breath before reciting the list of names she knows of. “Adamiriel - Adam Winchester/Samandiriel, Balthean - Balthazar/Dean Winchester, Cabriel - Castiel/Gabriel, Calthazar - Balthazar/Castiel, Casifer - Castiel/Lucifer, Chuckean - Chuck Shurley/Dean Winchester, Chuckam - Chuck Shurley/Sam Winchester, Crobby - Bobby Singer/Crowley - "

With every mash up comes a shoulder twitch and pained groan from Sam, who’s still face first on his desktop.

Before Milly can get any further, deanshot takes over the chant, enjoying the way Sam’s hands come up to cover his ears. “Crowstiel - Castiel/Crowley, Deanifer - Dean Winchester/Lucifer, Deaneath - Dean Winchester/Death, Deathean - Dean Winchester/Death, Deathifer - Death/Lucifer, Debriel - Dean Winchester/Gabriel, Deley - Crowley/Dean Winchester, Denny - Benny/Dean Winchester, Destair - Alastair/Dean Winchester, Destiel - Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gastiel - Castiel/Gabriel - "

Sam straightens up and shoves away from the desk before rising to his feet and waving his hands manically. “Hang on a minute, how come there are ten times more Dean-Centric names than there are Sam-Centric?! I mean, I get just as much play as - no need to laugh quite so loud jj1564 - as my Brother. What gives?”

Milly tilts her head and grins before turning in her seat and pointing towards vyperdd. “Take it away, Sam!Girl.”

vyperdd clears her throat and opens her arms, as if conducting a symphony of Sam. “Moosely - Sam Winchester/Crowley, Sabriel - Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Salthazar - Balthazar/Sam Winchester, Sameath - Death/Sam Winchester, Samifer - Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Samchael - Michael/Sam Winchester, Samuck - Chuck Shurley/Sam Winchester, Sassy - Castiel/Sam Winchester, Sastiel - Castiel/Sam Winchester, Sevin - Kevin Tran/Sam Winchester, Wincest - Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester.”

As she goes on and on, Sam’s eyes get wider and wider until the entire class worries they might actually fall out of their sockets.

Torn between proud and absolutely terrified, Sam latches on to the one name that he knows for certain cannot possibly be true. “Moosely? REALLY?”

Milly clicks her fingers at her tutor and raises an eyebrow. “Don’t fret, Sir. Just think, if you and Crowley are Moosely, that means that he and Dean must be Squirrelly!”

The laugh Sam lets loose is so loud and so fierce he has to hunch forward and grab his knees. Making a mental note to surprise Dean with that amazing piece of fanlore when his brother least expects it, Sam looks up at the class and shakes his head. “Okay then, now we’ve scarred me for life, let’s have a look at Rare!Pairs, shall we?”

sasha_dragon’s eyes light up as Sam perches on the edge of his desk. “How rare are we talking here, because I’ve got a list as long as my arm which - “

Sam points at Sasha, shakes his head and glares. “Anyone but you, I’ve still got bruises in places that shouldn’t even be possible and I KNOW it was you and your damned hurt!comfort marathon fic. Zip it.”

Sasha’s not sure whether to be offended or impressed by Sam’s ability to pick her writing out of the thousands of girls all whumping the hell out of him on a yearly basis. She opts for quietly satisfied and settles back into her seat. “Yes, Sir.”

Sam shakes himself, forcing the image of a topless Dean and bottomless him being shoved beneath a freezing cold waterfall, out of his mind, before picking one of the many raised hands in the room. “dreamsofspike, go.”

dreamsofspike squares her shoulders and clears her throat. “Dean/Crowley, Sir. If we could just ruminate on the possibilities of that pairing, I’d be most grateful. I’ve got at least three WiP’s in my folders which need an ending and as his brother, perhaps you could give us some insight into Dean’s attraction to the King of Hell.”

The entire class gasps as Sam reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a flask. Flicking the lid off he presses it to his lips and hums to block out the sound of someone, anyone, talking about his brother humping the King of Douchery.

Taking a huge gulp of burning liquid, Sam shakes his head, throws up his hands and strides from the room. His parting comment filters back through the door before it slams shut, rattling the frame.

“That’s it, I fucking give up, you lot are too twisted even for someone who once had no soul. Castiel owes me a six month sabbatical!"


	6. Fangirls - Nil!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professors Winchester decide now is the time to get their own back on the Fangirls who are trying to break them!.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is solely nomercles fault, because she was highly un-amused at my missing out Winpala and Dimpala from my last Fandom Uni Fic *grins* Thank you jj1564 for the beta (and the wit and wisdom in this fic, lol!)

Dean hears a cacophony of catcalls and hisses coming from what should be Sam’s classroom as he turns the corner and is met with the sight of his brother crouched in the corner; head in his hands, rocking back and forward, mumbling about fangirls being the death of all innocence.

Tempted to take a photo but deciding to show compassion towards his clearly disturbed little brother, Dean kneels down in front of Sam and lays a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up, dude? Did they get to you?”

Sam doesn’t raise his head but mumbles through his fingers which are wrapped tightly across his face. “You and Crowley. YOU AND CROWLEY!”

Dean’s almost relieved it’s nothing more serious before he remembers he’s meant to be disgusted by the idea. “Look, Sammy, they have over active imaginations and ridiculously high IQ's. Where else they gonna get shot of the excess energy?”

Sam finally manages to look up at Dean, who’s by now rubbing the pad of his thumb along his brother’s hairline, tickling the soft downy fluff at the nape of his neck. “But, CROWLEY, it’s preposterous.”

Dean leans in, touching his forehead to Sams. “Each to their own, buddy. We do some crap at night no one on the ‘normal’ spectrum would endorse.”

Sam smirks at his brother and actively chooses to ignore the twitch in his own eye. “Fine, but I don’t know if I can - “

Dean makes to stand and drags Sam with him. “How about we get our own back?”

“How?”

Dean’s sly grin gives Sam a low down tingle which helps assuage the still scary images roaming around in his mind.

Nodding towards the classroom, Dean hooks a hand in Sam’s elbow. “Follow my lead, ‘kay?”

***************

sasha_dragon is propped up against milly_gal’s desk as herminekurotowa leans across the space from her own table.

Deanshot clicks her fingers to get the girls’ attention. “I feel kinda bad, guys, I mean he didn’t look too balanced when he left. Did we break him?”

Milly’s about to say she hopes so because unbalanced Sammy is one of her favourite flavours, when in strides not just Sam but Dean as well.

Nodding towards Sasha who scurries back to her seat, Milly whispers out the side of her mouth. “Looks pretty solid to me.”

Sam refuses to let go of Dean’s hand; creasing his elbow and making it impossible for his brother to pull away, before addressing the class. “We have a guest speaker. Professor Winchester, you have the floor.”

Dean finally manages to pull away from Sam before turning to the assembled ladies all shooting him appreciative and smug looks. “Thank you Professor Winchester. Now, I do believe y’all were discussing Rare!Pairings, yes?”

jj1564 nods and smiles at Dean then realises she should probably actually say yes instead of just giving him the glad eye.

Opening her mouth she’s met with a look that could melt butter and finds herself stuttering towards the Grecian god staring in her direction. “Y-y-yes, Sir, we were.”

Dean subtly guides Sam towards the edge of his desk before taking a perch next to his brother. “Okay then. Did you get to chattin’ about inanimate objects and their ability to evoke emotion in people?”

The entire class sits up a little straighter, slightly unsure of where Dean’s going with this but hungry to find out.

A chorus of Noes goes up and he nods once before pulling his keys from his pocket. “Right, okay then. Baby.”

The collectively held breath in the room tells Dean he’s onto a winner and jangles his keychain at the practically salivating fangirls all leaning over their desks.

The women in the room can’t seem to take their eyes from the keys held between Dean’s fingers, so he takes the opportunity to wink and nod at Sam who seems to be finally getting where this is headed.

Sam simultaneously finds his voice and his feet.

Reaching towards Dean’s still raised hand, Sam snatches the keys to the Impala before caressing them gently and slowly between his thumb and forefinger. “If we are to look at the nature of pairings - “

Sam straightens and starts wandering between the desks, still lovingly stroking the keys in his hand. “We should also look at the catalyst for said pairings behaviour. What makes a pairing work? Why do they do what they do? Where do they feel most natural?”

Dean does his best to cover over the proud grin slowly curving up his lips as Milly and Sasha both nearly fall out of their chairs.

Sam continues to walk amongst his students, all the while gently stroking the ignition key in his palm. “For instance, a pairing isn’t always between a person and a person; it can be between a person and a thing. Or in this case two people and a thing.”

Dean smirks at Sam before schooling his features into that of a pouty child. “Hey, don’t be callin’ my Baby a thing.”

Sam doesn’t need to look at his brother to know there’s a glint of satisfaction shining from his eyes. “Sorry, man, didn’t mean to disrespect the beast. Anyway. The Impala is an intrinsic part of Dean and I’s relationship. We could be in the ass end of fucking nowhere but as long as we have her, we have a home, and somewhere to feel united. I remember, this one time we were completely wiped; vamps nest with more than a few blood suckers all willing to rip our throats out and when we’d finally ganked the very last one we found ourselves using Baby as a wall to hold us up as we slowly peeled each other's clothes o - “

The bell signalling class end sounds and every single fangirl in the room groans in pained disappointment and frustration.

Sam spins the keys around his thumb before sliding them into his pocket and beaming at his class. “That would be what we call Winpala, and if you manage not to be too fucking horrendous next class, we might discuss it in more detail. Now, piss off.”

As they file from the room, Milly and Jj moan and almost collapse against each other.

It’s wings128 that sidles up to the pair still heaving for breath and making fanning motions with their hands.”Sam Winchester One - Fangirls Nil. Maybe not as easy to break as you thought, huh?”

Jj smirks at Wings and tilts her head towards the brothers who are now huddled behind Sam’s desk. “Got him to admit they fucked up against the Impala, didn’t we?”

Wings is about to respond when they hear a deep booming voice cutting across the room. “If you lot weren’t so infuriating we might’ve shown you the pictures.”

The sound of forty women all collapsing as one in front of a now closed tight door is not lost on the two people still within the room, and Dean finds himself pulling his phone from his pocket. “Dude, fancy a pictorial next lesson?”


	7. Threesomes do not require fifteen limbs!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is really not the man for this job, but he's gonna give it his all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another Fandom Uni Fic :D And what can I say - BWAHAHAHAHA - silliness. Also, as always to my faithful and wonderful beta, jj1564, I owe you cookies the size of the empire state building!

Castiel really isn’t the person for this particular job, but due to a sudden upsurge in early retirements, citing fangirlitis as the main cause, he’s been lumbered with a class full of twenty women all hoping for extra credit.

Extra credit which would not have been needed if they’d just stopped trying to mount the gym teacher every time he walked by, earning themselves serious demerits.

The University can’t afford to keep replacing his red shorts. Let alone the amount of whistles and headbands he seems to miraculously lose each day.

Castiel doesn’t even want to think about the pairs of Saxx underwear both Soulless Sam and Sammy have gone through since this year started.

The university can’t keep footing the bill, especially seeing as Castiel keeps finding said lost items up on eBay with providence notes.

The list of the lost is growing exponentially every single day, and not a week goes by where Castiel doesn’t have to issue warning notices to those ladies who sleep in Halls, trying desperately to forestall any more ‘Naked Tuesday’ rallies.

Gabriel flew the coop when his wing feathers started falling out and he couldn’t get his halo to sit straight.

Balthazar stopped turning up, and eventually Castiel ventured to his house to find him sitting cross legged atop his piano muttering about fangirls being more debauched than ever he was.

Bobby’s turned his cap and flask over, using his advancing age as an excuse, yet being fully aware Castiel knows it’s because one over-zealous gent kept asking him if he took his whisky with a little water and a twist in.

Ellen became so sick and tired of being used as a human shield she actually stepped aside and told sasha_dragon to do her worst as far as Dean was concerned.

Little Samadriel is now in a home for the permanently scarred because jj1564 would not stop trying to stroke him and saying, “Who’s a good lickle Angel?"

Lucifer even turned in his horns and red contacts because milly_gal refused to cease leaving love notes outside the door to his dungeon.

Castiel can’t lose anymore staff or he’ll be finishing the semester alone, and god help him if the girls realise he’s operating without a safety net.

Albus Dumbledore and Minerva Mcgonagall never had to put up with this crap.

What’s a Slytherin gone bad or the odd Basilisk compared to rabid fangirls all trying to scare the holy hell out of their tutors?

The only faculty members refusing to admit defeat are of course Dean, Sam, Soulless Boy, and Crowley. Crowley’s only hanging around to see how many ten year deals he can garner if he offers one night with either of the Winchester Brothers, no questions asked.

John did say he’d step in if necessary, but there’s a possible scheduling conflict between eradicating a nest of zombies somewhere out west and being able to teach the Advanced Journal Keeping class.

Belt and braces are what’s needed here.

Straightening his tie and shaking out his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension that’s been building in anticipation of facing the most unruly members of his student body, Castiel steps into the classroom. “Afternoon ladies. We will have no grabbing, grappling, groping or growling. I will not tolerate that kind of - HEY! What was I just saying, Milly?”

Milly pastes a serene look across her face, papering over the smirk still shining from her eyes. “No idea what you’re talking about, Sir.”

Castiel clicks his fingers and regains his trousers, negating the hastily whispered spell aimed in his direction. “Okay then, I shall amend the rules to add no unapproved spellwork, either. Are we all clear?”

A chorus of yeses sounds around him and Castiel’s put at ease, at least for now. Sliding onto the desk he allows his trench coat to hang loosely from his shoulders as he begins taking register.

One of Dean’s pet peeves is that the Angel still insists on making every fangirl present in the room answer the call sheet, but there’s a very good reason for this little bit of old school schooling. He’s given forewarning as to who he should be looking out for during the class.

If Milly or kat-lair were to not rock up, he’d have a much more peaceful hour of teaching ahead of him. However, just knowing be_my_precious and meesasometimes are in the room prepares him for whatever mayhem may occur.

“aerynsun5, alexisjane, angelus2hot, ash48, auntmo9, be_my_precious, big_heart_june, blackrabbit42, chellexxx, cuddyclothes, deansdirtybb, deanshot, dolnmoon, fanspired, firesign10, jj1564, kat_lair, meesasometimes, milly_gal, stir_of_echoes!"

A series of grunts and yeses plus the odd whoop sound after every name and Castiel is slightly perturbed that all of the miscreants who’ve been harassing his teachers have turned up for this class.

This could get really ugly really fast.

“So, threesomes.”

The giggle coming from Jj’s table is only dulled by Stir’s low down dirty laugh, which is gaining volume and brevity as the rest of the class start chewing on their own fists to stop from breaking out into rapid fire sarcasm and questions.

One brave soul waits until the noise has died down before putting her hand up.

“Yes Meesa?”

Castiel braces for impact as she gathers her thoughts.

“Exactly how many threesomes have you taken part in, Sir? I mean it’s obvious you and Balty have been bumping uglies for some time, but have you ever invited Sammy into the mix, or do you keep it purely one on one with him?”

Castiel decides bravado and over-sharing is perhaps a better option than his usual bumbling blushing and goes for broke. “Actually, the only person I choose to play with one on one is Crowley. Everyone else is up for discussion.”

The deadpan way in which Castiel imparts that specific piece of information quiets the entire room. You could hear a pin drop as the Angel, now feeling far more in control than he has for a long while, stands and shucks his trench coat from his arms. “So, where was I? Oh yes, threesomes. Ladies, please, I am begging you, as are Dean, Sam and Soulless Boy…. Count the amount of limbs you have in any one position.”

Sasha’s genuinely interested in what Castiel has to say but she still can’t rid herself of the image of the former King of Hell begging to be ridden like a My Little Pony, so she shakes her head and rubs her eyes, hoping to dislodge the loud sound of Crowley whimpering and calling out the Angel’s name, from her mind.

Milly suddenly surges forward, almost mounting Kat as she realises what Castiel’s just said. “Hey, we don’t get our numbers wrong, ever!”

Castiel walks up to Milly’s desk and tilts his head. “Oh, really. So you did not write - _Castiel’s hands are all over Sam’s naked body as he cups the Hunters pert ass before leaning in and biting down on his shoulder and scraping his nails across Dean’s taut torso_ \- hmm?”

Milly splutters and winces. “Okay, fine, but I wasn’t exactly sober when I wrote that!”

“And here in lies a valuable lesson. If you cannot count straight whilst drunk, do not write a threesome, simple.”

Castiel turns and wanders back to his spot at the head of the class before spinning and opening his arms wide. “The only true lesson I can teach you ladies is less mechanics, more feelings and sensations, okay?”

Chelle raises her hand slowly.

“Yes, Michelle?”

The use of her full name makes Chelle shudder but she forges on. “Explainy?”

Castiel lowers himself to his desk and perches precariously against it’s smooth edge. “Right, so Dean may well be shagging Sam’s very pretty behind, but I do not need to hear how many thrusts it takes to make them both hit their stride. You understand?”

Fanspired clears her throat and opens her mouth. “So, what you’re saying is it’s less about puzzle piece A fitting into slot B,and more about how said slots fitting together makes the characters feel?”

“Exactly.”

Castiel thinks perhaps he could keep this lot in line by besting them at their own game and so stands straight before raising his voice, allowing a lyrical quality to creep into his usually stilted tone. “Dean begins to explore Sam’s long lithe body and the sense of wholeness crowds out the day’s hardships. As Sam’s legs fall open before him, Dean feels a tingle slide slowly down his spine culminating in a tightening of his balls in anticipation of sinking deep inside his brother. Sitting in the corner, Castiel takes himself in hand, relishing the way his calloused fingers snag against his throbbing cock.”

Castiel’s about to take a breath and start describing Sam’s taste when he hears a loud crash, followed by the end of lesson bell. Looking up he sees every desk has been overturned and there’s a squirming fangirl beneath each one.

Chuckling to himself, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice, he addresses his flailing class. “So, are we clear? Threesomes do not need to be about who puts what in where, it is more about the way an act makes you _feel_.”

Instead of waiting for everyone to right themselves, Castiel turns and strides from the room, eager to describe in full and glorious detail how he just managed to literally floor the filthiest members of the student body. “Soulless Boy owes me a beer, that is for damned sure.”


	8. Winchester Pranks 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why exactly would you allow a class full of highly intelligent woman any kind of inside knowledge on how to make someone's life a living hell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *giggles* This one can be thoroughly blamed on jj1564 (as can the next one I have planned) and thank you hun, I needed something to keep my brain occupied today <3 Also, thank you for the beta as well, I owe you Winchester's in the buff.

For a dude who’s always been quite happy in nothing but a thought and a smile, someone who’s dropped his trousers on more than one occasion in the pursuit of hunting and killing evil things, Dean’s feeling surprisingly shy right now.

He’s clothed, sure, but the looks on the ladies’ faces as they drag their eyes from his tennis shoes all the way to his red headband, are making Dean feel like he hasn’t got a stitch on.

Dean’s not entirely sure why Castiel thought this was such a great idea.

Who puts a lamb in front of lions and expects the lamb to come out of the situation not sporting a few cuts and scrapes? Or in his case one less layer of clothing and a lot of horror stories to tell his therapist. A therapist he only had to engage because this lot are fucking scary.

What’s worse is this is the second time Dean’s been made to give this lecture in less than a week. Castiel must really hate him.

Sammy and his soulless counterpart are both sat at the back of the class, lending silent moral support to a man who’s faced down Leviathans and Dragons, and side-eyeing all the girls salivating onto their desks.

Sammy hopes he doesn’t have to get out his trusty _Fangirl-Away_ Pepper-Spray and soulless boy is thinking maybe they should’ve bought some holy water and salt because not one of the sounds emanating from the various desks is remotely **human**.

“No, NO! Look, it’s all very well and good going with the classics, but when you’ve been running cons on your brother for as long as I have, the oldies don’t cut it any more.”

Both Sams look up and growl at Dean but neither can deny he’s pulled some seriously awesome crap on them over the years.

Dean chooses to ignore the pointed stares coming from the back of the room and attempts to stop the severe ass kicking he’s gonna get later by telling the girls about Sam’s ingenious use of a tube of glue. “I may be the master of little brother irritation but when said little brother gets his own back, you best watch out. Y’all remember the  great super-glue incident of 2007, don’t you?”

The chorus of yeses and whoops almost deafen Dean but he’s willing to take one for the team, and distract the ladies from his very bare knobbly knees and bow-legs, by admitting Sam got him, well and truly got him. “What they don’t tell you in _little-miscreants-class_ is when you super-glue someone to a bottle of beer, it will take five days for the skin to start growing back on the palm of their hand, making it extremely difficult for them to carry out simple tasks such as making a cup of coffee or doing up their fly.”

Soulless boy breaks first; curling over the front of his desk and spitting a laugh that sprays the back two rows of fangirls with saliva.

Said fangirls don’t look too upset about it.

Sammy tries and fails to keep a straight face and is gratified to remember just how many howls of discomfort he heard coming from the bathroom every time Dean tried to take a leak in the two weeks after he glued his brother’s hand to his beer bottle. “Dean, you’re forgetting the best one, the one that got us banned from Bobby’s for a month.”

Dean almost slips off the front of his desk as he recalls the look on Bobby’s face after they’d finally braved pranking him for the first time. “Fuck, I’d forgotten about that. So, for this little _experiment_ all you need is a tube of toothpaste, a tub of mayo and at least an hour where the prankee isn’t in the house. You know how to do the Salt for Sugar bait and switch, well this is the same principle.”

Sasha_Dragon leans forward, listening intently, knowing she’s got a work colleague who would eventually see the funny side, and Jj1564 wonders how long she’d have to wait for her son to leave the house. Both of them are so intrigued by the truly smug look on Dean’s face that they don’t notice Kalliel furiously taking notes or Amberdreams sketching out rough doodles of their teacher with his red shorts swinging from a flagpole and his headband stretched tight over his _modesty_.

Dean begins to recount the moment he managed to remove every drop of toothpaste from the tube sitting innocently in Bobby’s bathroom before using a turkey baster to squeeze mayonnaise into it as a replacement, and Sam can remember so clearly the look of fury on their surrogate father’s face as he came hurtling into the lounge, mouth full of garlic laced mayonnaise, eyes threatening swift and bloody retribution.

Just as Dean reaches the pinnacle of his story, the door to the classroom opens and Castiel pokes his head in. “Professor Winchester, could you possibly pop out here for a moment?”

The look of confusion on Dean’s face is mirrored by every girl in the class.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Perhaps this is something best left for in the hallway.”

“Ohhhh-kayyy.”

Herminekurotowa cranes towards the door as Dean clicks it shut behind him and she can just about hear the conversation being carried on his hushed worried tones.

“Did you by any chance enlighten the girls in your last class as to the saran wrap on the loo seat, story?”

Dean huffs out a laugh and nods. “What, you didn’t expect me not to tell them how you managed to get damp shoes fives times in a row, did you?”

“Well, no, that might be fair enough, but maybe you should let them know it is not good form to carry out these pranks on University property.”

“Why?”

“Because right now Gabriel is currently having to wring out his wings and air dry his trousers.”

The explosion of laughter coming from the classroom alerts both men as to their less than stealthy conversation and it takes all of Dean’s willpower not to join in with his pupils. “Exactly who perpetrated this _heinous_ act?”

“There is no need for sarcasm, Dean. And if you must know, Stir_Of_Echoes is sitting in the office looking less than sorry for her sins.”

“Cas, you _asked_ me to teach Winchester Pranks 101. I can’t be blamed for the students practically applying the knowledge.”

“No, but you might not have given her the saran wrap.”


	9. Bite the hand that feeds you! A Naming and shaming.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes a little pointing of fingers.... The staff draw the line at broken bones!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope QR doesn't mind my stealing the HvC challenge and abusing it ;) This chapter has some Easter Eggs for a couple of the girls who beta'd/read through this one. Sasha and Jj have had some extras added to their muses ;)

Castiel is hunkered down behind his desk, which is strewn with complaint letters from _every_ **single** member of the faculty, and fervently wishing he’d taken Bobby’s advice about closing the University for the entire month leading up to Sam’s birthday.

Flicking through the crumpled pieces of paper filled with excruciatingly detailed information about the misdeeds of his students over the last three weeks, Castiel wonders how in the hell each one of his teaching staff got caught in the crossfire of Sam’s Hurt Versus Comfort Birthday Meme.

At least once a day a member of his team, a friend, has hobbled, stumbled, limped - or in one case actually crawled - into his office, sporting bandages, bruises of all shapes colours and sizes, and a serious amount of drying blood plastered across their dazed and confused faces.

This has got to stop.

It was bad enough when the challenge ran for a week, but a month, a month is too much - let alone having an open ended posting date.

Castiel’s not entirely sure how to deal with the situation but he knows he has to do something before he’s left with only a smug sassy janitor teaching the entire university how to make chocolate and dancing girls appear out of thin air.

Biting his bottom lip, screwing his eyes up in concentration, Castiel mulls over an idea that could have merit, but could also backfire in the worst possible way.

Clearing his throat and pulling out his mobile, Castiel taps out a quick multi-text before hitting send and waiting patiently for his staff to trundle into his office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean stares at Castiel like he’s lost his mind. Nursing two black eyes and a broken nose, the oldest Winchester winces as he raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Castiel, man, I’ve heard some dumbassed plans in my time, I work with Sammy-boy here, but really? You want to put us in a room filled to the rafters with the most ruthless writers and artists that have ever matriculated here, and then you want to - “

Sam would reach out and slap Dean upside the head but he can’t because both hands have got at least two snapped fingers on them, and he can’t extend either of his arms due to them being in slings. “Dean, if I weren’t so banged up I’d be beating you senseless about now - when have my plans ever gone _this_ wrong?”

Dean doesn’t get chance to answer, as Soulless boy cuts right across his open mouth and withering glare. “Hey, hey, it’s bad enough we’ve gotta take our lives in our hands every time we walk down the hallways, we don’t need to start bitching and whining at each other. They’ll scent blood and we’ll be done for.”

The newest member of the faculty leans nonchalantly against the closed office door, using an asses jawbone to pick his teeth - what’s left of them, anyway. “Let me get this straight, oh wise trench-coat wearin’ one, your plan is to pile us all inside a room with no emergency exits and call into bein’ the creatures that are solely responsible for the state of your entire teachin’ team? Do you have any idea how fuckin’ wrong that could go?”

Lucifer has never been above enjoying some seriously sadistic shit, but he draws the line at being forced to watch Crowley bathe his poor abused feet every night. That alone is cruelty personified. “Not being funny, fellas, but if I have to pay witness to Crowley’s nightly routine of trying to get his toes straight, one more time, I’m going to start writing some fangirl versus fallen Archangel fanfic, and see how they like that.”

Castiel throws up his hands and stutters at the Morning Star. “No, no, that will not be necessary, Lucifer. I do not have the cleaning budget to get the blood and guts out of the curtains and carpets.”

Bobby clears his throat and straightens the tatty, now singed, baseball cap sitting askew on his head. “Boys, I hate to say it but Cas is right. A little namin’ and shamin’ might just force the girls into not only apologisin’ for the fact I can’t find a whisky strong enough to dull the ache in my left leg, but also, stop them rainin’ down any more ass whoopin’s on us.”

Castiel shoots Bobby a grateful nod, and forges on. “Look, I have not exactly come out of the last three weeks unscathed, it will take centuries for my feathers to grow back, let alone get the blood stains off of my halo. We have to do something, or we will be forced to close the University until all the stories have been posted. Quickreaver did not put a time limit on that. Do you want to have to sleep with one eye open for the rest of the year?”

Dean, Demon Dean, Soulless Sam, Sammy, Bobby, Balthazar, Gabriel, Crowley and Lucifer all shudder, letting out one unified wounded animal sound, which tells Castiel more than any amount of complaints letters or photographic evidence ever will.

“It is settled then. I will call an extra credit ‘class’ tomorrow. Remember to bring any and all weapons, people. I am not taking any chances.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

milly_gal and sasha_dragon sit together, heads bowed low over a tatty notebook filled with diagrams showing exactly how to get Sam Winchester into a hanging bear trap, whilst stir_of_echoes recounts out loud her latest paragraph, complete with animated hand waving and vividly conjured imagery.

herminekurotowa and jj1564 are both hanging on the edge of amberdreams desk as she sketches out a scene worthy of a hammer horror film, and quickreaver is quite happily sitting quietly at the back of the room smiling and enjoying the sounds of fangirls doing what they do best; maiming those they purport to love.

The door to the classroom bangs open and in march every one of the tutors responsible for girls fandom education.

March is a bit of a strong word, seeing as the majority of them are having to use crutches to get around at the moment, and Lucifer’s clearly having trouble staying upright, let alone Castiel’s over exaggerated limp as he huffs and puffs his way to the front of the class.

Castiel clears his throat and glares at every single woman, now staring at the assembled teaching staff and wondering what in the hell the extra credit portion of the class is going to involve.

“Right. We need to talk. You see this - “, Castiel turns slowly, still aching in places he didn’t know he could ache, and gestures to the long line of professors and tutors all hunched and having trouble making eye contact with the room full of crazy assed fangirls hell bent on beating them to a bloody pulp. “This is unacceptable behaviour. We cannot control what the graduated classes do with their hurt comfort writing time, but whilst you are under my roof, in this establishment, you will not be permitted to take out your thirst for _hurt_ on my staff.”

Demon Dean is more than amused at Castiel’s attempted butchness, and would love nothing more than to rip the piss out of him for it, but a show of unity in front of the mass of unhinged fangirls won’t be helped by tearing strips of the faculty’s leader and mouthpiece.

Instead of smirking and making some crass comment about the Angel growing a set of feathery balls, Demon Dean nods and bites his lip, before craning his neck and staring down the line to Soulless Sam who is clearly thinking the exact same thing.

It takes every drop of soulless boy’s willpower, but he just shakes his head slightly and winks at Demon Dean, before wincing in pain as soul-having-pansy-boy Sam reaches around Gabriel and slaps him upside the head, hard.

Dean rolls his eyes and flicks Demon Dean on the ear, before hissing at him. “Will you two quit it. It’s bad enough dealin’ with that lot, let alone you two colludin’ against Castiel when he’s tryin’ to save our asses from permanent disfigurement. Behave!”

Balthazar snorts and shuffles on the spot. “It’s like being in a room with a bunch of homicidal toddlers and their tantrum-y babysitters. Am I the only person here with any dignity?”

Lucifer practically drowns the back of Castiel’s head in saliva as he laughs loud enough to draw the attention of all the girls now hanging their heads in mock shame. “Dignity? DIGNITY. Brother, you wouldn’t know dignity if it jumped up and bit you on the oversexed behind. Looking at you makes me realise why Daddy decided to leave out the ‘junk’ when he was designing us. How have you not ended up with a bed in the local sexual health clinic?”

Balthazar is about to open his mouth to reply when Castiel spins on the spot and allows the blue glow in his eyes to flash angrily at every single person lined up against the blackboard. “Gentlemen!”

Milly isn’t sure if she should be amused at the show of ‘maturity’ from the teaching staff and jotting down notes, or worried that Castiel seems to have an ulterior motive for the bollocking he’s giving each and every student in the room. She opts for quietly curious as the Headmaster turns around and raises his arms.

“I think it is about time we met these Muses you girls keep blaming for all of your abhorrent behaviour, I am intrigued to see how they react when questioned on their creative equivalent of serial killer habits.”

There’s a collective horrified sharp intake of breath as Crowley steps forward and begins intoning something in Latin, whilst Bobby lights what appears to be a giant blood red incense stick.

Jj leans away from the rapidly increasing plume of smoke filling the room, and herminekurotowa is forced to cover her eyes as she pictures the giant glitter covered monstrosity she thinks of as her Muse, being brought into live rainbow technicolour in a room full of her closest friends.

Sasha’s about to get up and run screaming from the room when all of a sudden her Muse - complete with shirtless six pack, blond hair down to his ridiculously pert butt, freckles that almost glisten in the artificial light in the room, gently pointed ears, and a distinct resemblance to not _one_ , but **two** of her University professors - shimmers into life in front of her. “Oh, hey, um, you’re here - I - “

As Sasha’s Muse stares down at her like she’s the last drop of freshwater on a desert island, Milly’s Muse blinks into existence, and she’s forced to slither underneath her desk to avoid the catcalls and wolf whistles of the other girls all trying to sidestep eye contact with their own Muses.

Stir leans forward over her desk and pokes Milly’s Muse in the abs. “No, he’s real. I had no idea, Milly, you minx.”

Quickreaver steps up next to Milly’s Muse and runs long fingers through his Disney Princess hair. “Wow, that explains an awful lot, Mills.”

Sam and Soulless Sam both stare wide eyed at the being now flaunting his bare naked chest and tight leather pants, whilst waggling his eyebrows and making come-on gestures with his fingers.

“Is that - “

“Have you been - “

“Is he - “

Castiel’s almost but not quite lost for words as Milly’s Muse laps up the attention, and suddenly understands one of his favourite student’s obsession with all things cracktastic and x-rated. “Milly - is that Soulless Sam?”

From beneath her desk, comes Milly’s stilted voice. “Shut up, all of you just shut up! At least mine doesn’t have a unicorn horn and tentacles, hmmm, Hermine?”

Stir sniggers and nearly rolls off her chair laughing, when her own Muse _pops_ up in front of her and she’s forced to cover her blushing face with both hands.

Demon Dean and Dean have to use each other for support so they don’t hit the floor as they come face to face with a carbon copy of a multi-colored Mohawk sporting kilt wearing version of themselves, and the only sound in the room that can be heard above the ramped up wolf whistling and inappropriate suggestions being shouted by the girls, is Quickreaver asking if there’s any chance of a Muse swap.

The noise is finally dying down when Jj’s Muse appears out of thin air and every fangirl in the room starts clapping their hands hard enough to rattle the windows.

Standing in front of Jj with his eyebrow raised, hair artfully spiked, wearing nothing but a pair of oversized boxer’s shorts, is what appears to be a young version of Dean, Dean sans stubble and scars, and a piece of ink on his neck that looks a lot like a barcode.

Jj’s head hits her desk as she sighs and whispers. “Don’t say it girls, you have **no** room to talk!”

Amberdreams calls out from the back of the classroom. “Any chance that barcode actually works and we can all buy one of _those_?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, after the chaos of having their ID’s being flashed in front of the world’s scariest, most talented, and sadistic writers and artists, the room is filled with an air of embarrassment, awe and jealousy.

The faculty have vacated their place in front of the blackboard and are dotted around the back of the room, watching with glee and amusement as Castiel lines each and every Muse up for all to see.

“So, girls, let us ask if they are truly to blame for your more vicious tendencies, shall we?”

Milly’s Muse raises an eyebrow at Milly then shakes his head. “Last I checked all I was there for was support as she breaks those poor bastards at the back of the room. The ideas are all hers.”

Milly points a finger at her Muse and growls. “If you did more than just respond to crack-filled prompts I can’t get out of my bloody head I wouldn’t be forced to come up with my own fanfiction ideas, would I?”

Castiel smirks and moves along the line to Quickreaver’s Muse, who has a serene look on her face and doesn’t appear to be phased by any of the strange creatures standing next to her. “So, what about you? I mean QR is blaming you for the fact there is no end date on her posting schedule.”

“I don’t hold the pen or own the keyboard, Castiel, I simply conjure up the creative vibes Quickreaver needs to bring these things to life.”

Quickreaver stares in horror and shouts out from the back of the classroom. “FINE. NOTHING BUT TENTACLE PORN AND STICK FIGURE PICTURES FOR YOU FROM NOW ON!”

One by one the fangirl’s Muses deny any and all involvement in the process of stripping the faculty of clothing, dignity and the ability not to trip over on a flat surface, and the students are starting to feel like they’ll never live this down.

Castiel finishes questioning the Muses and can’t help the grin on his face at the sound of his class all groaning and wishing the ground would open up and swallow them. “Thank you for your honesty, I shall now return you to your incorporeal states.”

Castiel has to bite back a groan of his own as Demon Dean mock whispers. “Do we have to? I mean my mohawked double and Soulless Boy’s leather clad twin look like they could be all kinds of fun.”

If not for the fact that she thinks she’s never going to be able to look Soulless Sam in the eye again, Milly would wholeheartedly agree.

As the Muses one by one blink out of existence, the faculty limp, hobble and hop back up next to Castiel, who’s bestowing a look like Angelic Thunder upon his class of miscreant artists and authors.

“Girls, I understand that you have an appetite for creativity that knows no bounds, I also understand that we - what is it you say? Oh yes! Bleed so pretty - but please, please could you refrain from damaging the entirety of my teaching staff until the end of the school year? It is hard enough to get willing victims in to teach you about which interlocking parts interlock where, we do not need the wider world knowing that people who apply for the positions here are more than likely going to get stripped naked and covered in strawberry jam before being fed to hungry bears, angry bees, or witches with twisted senses of humour.”

The fangirls all hang their heads in actual shame, and mumble yes, as one, before standing and filing dejectedly out of the room.

It’s only herminekurotowa left to leave the room when she hears Sammy asking in a completely irate panicked voice. “What do you MEAN until the end of the year?!”


	10. The Objectification of Moose and Squirrel - Bad Manners or Bamf Appreciation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's not entirely sure how he got suckered into taking this class, but he's going to have to show some backbone, or the fangirls will eat him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to jj1564 for her as always amazing beta, and to be_my_precious who clearly has psychic tendencies ;)

Crowley fidgets with the pens and pencils Castiel gifted him after he agreed to teach this class, and tries not to lose his shit over the idea of facing off against twenty fangirls who can claim a far better memory for detail, higher IQs, and tighter grasp of general knowledge on the subject of Sam and Dean fucking Winchester than he will ever be able to wield.

Crowley doesn’t know exactly **how** he got conned into taking this lecture, but there’s a hazy memory of a bottle of Craig, a night of debauchery instigated by a sneaky Angel who still denies he knows anything about The Eiffel Tower, and a soreness when he sits that makes the King of Hell think he probably got screwed over on both counts.

He’s about to admit defeat and run screaming from the room when the first few students begin to file in, and he’s struck by how varied an audience he’ll be addressing today.

Some are in their fifties, some are tweens, some are old enough to know better but young enough not to care, and others are here because they’ve found a home in amongst the crazy that makes them feel sane.

The irony in that thought is not lost on Crowley and he has a sudden flash of realisation, an epiphany of sorts; It doesn’t matter where you hail from, what you look like, how old or young you are, demon, human, monster, or indeterminate other, when you walk into this family you’re welcomed for the great gift to the universe that is you.

Where minutes ago he was throwing an internal hissy fit, Crowley is now calm, collected and thoroughly looking forward to chatting with these women, women who are worthy of the respect they garner for their fandom activities.

He’s always been an outsider, an enemy, a creature with no real tether to the collective, but still Sam, Dean, Bobby and Castiel all make sure he’s a part of the whole.

If that’s how these people sitting in front of him feel, then he gets it, he really gets it.

Wrung out he may well be, after this class, but he will walk away knowing he’s a better Demon for having had chance to play in their sandpits.

“Hello Ladies.”

The room erupts into fits of giggles and rapturous applause and Crowley knows no matter what happens in the class, he’ll come out feeling ten feet taller than he was when he walked in with his heart in his throat.

“The objectification of Moose and Squirrel - bad manners or bamf appreciation? So, ladies, thoughts? Before I impart what little wisdom I have, I’d like to know how you feel about the subject.”

Sasha_dragon sits forward in her chair, practically cutting herself in half, and waves her hand.

“Yes, you there, fabulous ginger mop of hair and quirky glasses - go!”

Sasha stares at Crowley like she’d quite happily offer up her soul for a chance to see what he sounds like when he’s lost in the moment, and blushes. “Well, urm, I always thought that your nicknames for the Brothers Winchester were really terms of endearment. You see I know you pretend not to care but really, your majesty, you wouldn’t bestow nicknames on a couple of random Demons or people who pass through your life leaving no real footprints in your - what was once not a swinging brick and vacant sign - heart and soul.”

Crowley fervently wishes he hadn’t signed that _‘No Evisceration’_ waiver and glares at Sasha. “Okay, okay, look, we all know that Moose and Squirrel mean more to me than I will **ever** tell those two lumbering plaid clad oafs, but do we have to air my dirty laundry in a room full of writers and artists? It’s bad enough knowing you know I spend my nights grooming Asstiel’s feathers, I don’t need the entire student body drawbaling stick figure pictures of me worshipping at the cup of Winchester!”

Sasha leans back in her seat and smirks but doesn’t reply because as much as she knows Castiel, Sam and Dean would have put strictures on this class, she’s not willing to push her luck.

Jj1564 quirks an eyebrow at Crowley’s cute blush which is spreading rapidly up his throat and across his cheeks and waves her hand. “Your Majesty?”

Crowley’s loathe to open the floor up to more comments, knowing he’s never going to hear the end of it from Sam and Dean because Sasha’s assertions WILL get back to them somehow, but the look on Jj’s face says she has something interesting to say and he’s a sucker for a well thought out put down.

“Fine, say your piece, but please, next time you come into this class, refrain from wearing the tiny Castiel around your neck, he’s very off putting. He’s staring at me no matter where I stand.”

Jj chuckles and opens her mouth. “Do you hate the Winchesters?”

Crowley almost swallows his own tongue. “I - We - I mean - “

“No really, _sir_ we all understand you have a love for a certain bird brained headmaster here, but Sam and Dean - You pretend you hate them but really - “

Crowley’s face is flaming and he’s thinking bloody retribution on Castiel - who’s probably sitting in his office yucking it up as the fangirls en masse ruin him - and hoping to CHUCK that Sam and Dean NEVER hear of what was spoken in this room. “Look, let’s be clear. I am the KING OF MEAN. Right? That doesn’t mean I don’t on occasion need the welcoming vitriol of those I loathe most. Sam and Dean bloody Winchester are a thorn in my bloody side, but I know I can push the envelope with them, and I also know that I am more of an ally they’d rather put up with than an enemy they could easily stick with an Angel Blade somewhere unfun. I DO hate them, daily, but I am also not a complete fucking moron, their plaidnesses are a necessary evil. Understand?”

Jj flicks a quick grin at Crowley but settles back into her chair and refuses to answer. Much like Sasha, she too is not that dumb.

Crowley thinks he’s finally going to get some calm in the sea of chaos that is fangirls out for your blood, when Milly raises her hand.

“Oh for fuck sake, not you too!”

Milly is both amused and insulted by Crowley’s instant worry at her waving digits, but that doesn’t stop her from blurting out her innermost thoughts. “Come on dude, we all know you’re hot for _Wings_ but when it comes to Sam and Dean you have a grudging respect, yes?”

Crowley stands at the front of the class with his index finger pressed tightly to the bridge of his nose, hoping the ground will open up and swallow him, but knowing if he doesn’t show some kind of backbone in front of this lot they’ll never let him live it down.

“RIGHT. FINE. Listen up - This class is going to last all semester and I will NOT be plagued with piss taking attempts from my faculty brothers, so you mark my words, if ANYTHING makes it out of this classroom back to those denim clad nightmares or their angelic bodyguard I’ll know where to send my best Hellhound…”

The entire class sits a little straighter and wishes they’d made arrangements for permanent erasure from the universe before agreeing to take the year long lecture, but no one says a word.

Crowley takes the silence as an acquiescence to his requested respect and closed mouth policy. “Sam and Dean are a part of who I am. Without them I have no one else to hold myself a standard towards. Understand? I’ve faced down monsters, millenia old Demons bred of violence and debauchery, and I’ve defeated the highest order of douchebags, but Sam and Dean Winchester offer a loftier level of opponent. If any of you ever tell them that I will deny all knowledge and revoke your decade long contracts. You know who you are.”

Herminekurotowa and laughablelament, along with several more fangirls, squirm in their seats but no one bats an eyelash or remarks on a fair few of their sistren looking mighty uncomfortable at the idea of Crowley calling in his chits early.

“Now, on to the original intended topic in this class - What exactly qualifies creatures or persons as bad ass mother fuckers? How do Sam and Dean fit into this archetypal depiction of warriors and heroes, and are we over simplifying their part in the grand scheme?”

Milly, Sasha, Jj, Hermine and Laughable’s eyes all go wide as saucers, but it’s be_my_precious who says out loud what they’re all thinking. “Screw that, sir, we just want to know what really happened when Demon Dean ended up wearing that Stetson!”

Crowley allows his chin to hit his chest but he can’t help the fond grin as the memory of Dean riding that bull - and then that barman - chases away all thoughts of being blackmailed for actually _liking_ the Winchesters. “Well, the thing is, when you put three quarts of a pint of rum and whiskey inside a Winchester - Demon or not - he WILL make a fool of himself. What happened was - “

 

 

Fin.


	11. We invite you to use your imaginations, and be safe - not too safe, though!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New and improved ways of making sure the Winchesters are always sans clothing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to dizzojay for the suggestion for this latest fic topic, and it amazes me it's taken this long in a University full of Fandom Heart Throbs, to get them as naked as we can ;)Thank you to jj1564 for the on the fly beta - I know I've been a pain in the butt the last few weeks but thank you from the bottom of my swinging brick ;) ♥

Dean’s strolling along the hallway, thanking Chuck that his latest class is finally finished, knowing he’ll need a quart of whisky and possibly even a spliff before he steps foot back in that particular lecture. Since when did a _University Education_ involve stick figure pictograms depicting Sodom and Gomorrah’s weekend vacation spot? That will teach him to agree to lecture on _The Dynamics of Bottoming and Topping in Fanfiction_.

However he’s quite looking forward to flashing amberdreams latest piece of artwork at his brother; the look on Sam’s face is going to be worth every penny Dean will have to spend out in therapy bills for the next six months.

Dean’s contemplating the best way to avoid permanent mental scarring when he’s hit, full force, in the back by what he can only assume is a fangirl on a mission.

It isn’t an uncommon occurrence; being taken down by an overzealous fangirl with designs on making him her bitch for the weekend. Usually though, he’s being climbed like a tree, not flattened to the tiles and feeling like his nose is broken. “What the fuck?!”

He can’t _see_ said fangirl, but he sure as hell recognises the sound of her maniacal giggles and realises he can feel the prickly ends of a suit made entirely of velcro digging into every square inch of his clothing. “Oh _hell_ no! dizzojay, I’m warnin’ you - don’t do it!”

Face down on the floor and unable to struggle free of the girl still laughing her ass off, Dean hears his red shorts and white polo top begin to tear away at the seams. “No - NO - come on Dizzo, that’s just dirty-pool, DIRTY-POOL - *oomph*”

As his outer layer of clothing is completely ripped away, Dean can finally roll over and just manages to catch a glimpse of the glee plastered all over Dizzo’s face as an industrial strength line of elastic pulls her up and away - arms full of everything he put on this morning, except his Batman boxers and Thor socks.

Dean’s flapping his arms and trying to figure out whether to cover his nipples or his bare bow-legs, when he hears an en-masse caterwauling and realises that Dizzo is clearly not acting alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s about to take his usual mid-afternoon swim in the university pool, when he hears a strange ticking noise coming from the far end of the room.

Leaving his discarded clothing in a heap on the damp tiles, Sam wanders towards the sound.

Realising his mistake far too late, Sam spins on the spot and notes not one, not two, but **seven** fangirls descending from the ceiling on some kind of high-tech elaborate winch and pulley system, all with their hands grasping towards his jeans, hoodie and tee. Not to mention the unicorn boxers Dean gifted him for his last birthday, which are now being fought over, mid-air, by sasha_dragon and be_my_precious.

Looking down at himself and the quite frankly indecently tight speedos he’s left with, Sam thinks perhaps he should swim in a full body wetsuit, especially if the girls are going to start Mission Impossible-ing it when he leasts expects it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been a week of underhanded tactics and red faces, and Sam and Dean are beginning to leave serious dents in their wages just replacing the piles of clothing the fangirls have been stealing off them every chance they get.

Enough is enough; however, they did not expect Castiel to call an emergency meeting in the assembly hall, and not give them chance to try and find something to wear after the girls’ latest smash and grab episode.

Lined up on the stage are the entire faculty, including a _very_ nearly naked Sam and Dean, looking at their feet and hoping to Chuck the ground will open up and eat them alive.

“Ladies, this has got to stop. We cannot run a university manned by tutors without any clothing. As much as you would _love_ us to, it is not health and safety or hygiene friendly. Now, what EXACTLY is going on that you lot of reprobates have decided you need every stitch the Winchesters own?”

A sea of _sorrynotsorry_ faces peer up at Castiel as he rants, raves and waves his arms, but it’s Crowley who can’t keep a straight face and collapses in fits of guffaws, directly behind Castiel who’s just now realising that this might not be _all_ his students’ fault.

“Do you have something to add, Professor Mcleod?”

“Only that they lose points on stealth but they’re getting extra credits for the sheer volume of clothing they’ve stolen in the last seven days.”

It’s as Crowley continues to roll around on the stage, laughing his backside off, that Castiel spots a flyer poking out of his coat pocket.

Bending and snatching the piece of paper out of his partner’s pocket, Castiel reads aloud and cringes. “Come one, come all, earn extra credit in Professor Crowley’s _‘Inventive ways to instigate the nudity of Sam and Dean Winchester’_ class. All retrieved clothing goes to a worthy cause - the Little Hunters Thrift Store Fund.”

The crowd erupts, a sound so loud Castiel fears the roof will blow off, but it’s Dean’s loud angry assertions that draw everyone’s attention and gains silence from the catcalling, wolf whistling, salivating students.

“I’ll show you LITTLE!”

And before either Castiel or Sam can stop him, much to Crowley’s amusement and the students’ happiness, Dean grips the waistband of his boxers, rips them down his legs, and wiggles furiously on the stage for all to see.

“NOTHING little here, folks!”

 

 

Fin


End file.
